Musings of a Hardbroom
by MusicalAlchemy
Summary: Hardbroom wonders about what her daughter will be like, moments before the new students arrive. One-shot.


I can scarcely believe that so many years have passed since I held you in my arms. I had almost forgotten you would be coming here. When you were born they told me you had no magic at all, that you would be nothing more than a mortal, like Imogen. Yet here you are on the register. It might not be you, of course. Goodness knows it's a common enough name, but I can feel it within me. I don't know who adopted you, what became of you after I left you, but I know I can't go back on it now.

No, the safest thing for you to do is hate me. That way you can't get close to me, you won't be tempted to join the gang of girls intent on seeing my friendly side. I'm not sure if I even have one any more. The girls that aren't frightened out of their wits by me, respect me, and I'm comfortable with that. I'm entirely comfortable with the fact that I can walk into a room and it falls silent. I like having that kind of power, to be able to say someone's name in such a way that they quake in their boots.

Amelia may try and win me over with tea, crumpets and offers to set me up with 'some nice young man', but I'm sorry, that's not going to happen. Men have done me no favours in the past, why on earth should I start now? I'd rather have quality time with Miss Bat in her cupboard than be with a man again.

You're due to arrive pretty soon, you and the rest of this year's new students. I've suddenly realised I don't know what you look like. The picture I have of you a few hours old is hardly a fair comparison of what to expect. Will you look like I did when I was your age, a single ponytail drawn sharply back from my forehead, not an item of clothing out of place? I hope not. Goodness knows it did me no favours, turning up like some kind of emotionless 45 year old already, haughty and ready to be displeased with anything as soon as it arose. Getting good grades means nothing in the longest run of things. It might help you get into university, if that's what you're after, but what after that? If you've spent all your childhood preparing for your adulthood, goodness knows you haven't truly lived.

No, you'd be better off nothing like me. I hope you don't make the same mistakes I did, getting off to a bad start with everyone, making enemies before friends. I never did make any friends anyway, I never trusted anyone enough. Yet when I did finally trust someone, he took advantage of me. Please don't let yourself become what I have, let yourself truly live.

I'm not even sure you'll be coming to this school. That would be a relief. Then I wouldn't have to guard my emotions around you, I wouldn't have to check I wasn't making you my favourite, or letting you get away with things. You'll find out who I am soon enough, I guess. No doubt you'll turn up exactly as I did those many years ago, and Amelia will link us straight away.

***

Standing in that courtyard was possibly the most scared I've been in a long time. Which girl were you? The tall, athletic looking girl? Possibly, but more likely with my blood you'll be gangly, like the girl at the back; but she has blonde hair and goodness knows there's none of that in my family. I don't see how you can be any of these girls. There is one girl who is remarkable similar to how I was when I was younger, but she's a hallow. Just as prissy and stuck up as the rest of them. Oh well, if you're not here this year you won't ever be here, and I guess that's a relief.

Wait a moment, there's someone missing. Isn't that the girl who got the scholarship? Having come from non-magical parents, she got into the school by writing a good story didn't she? She's called Mildred, just like my daughter had been. Surely they had had enough sense to change her name? This could be utter disaster - what if someone makes a link between us?

A good few minutes later I realise there's no such problem as that. You've arrived, but not as I expected you to. You're late, for one thing. Hardbrooms are **never** late. You're untidy, there's more hair outside your plaits than in, and for goodness sakes your bootlaces are undone. You're a complete disgrace and I'm almost glad I let you go before I realise that you are exactly how I want you to be.

Nothing like me.


End file.
